


It Has to Be a Mistake

by watcherofworlds



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 12:55:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8286626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watcherofworlds/pseuds/watcherofworlds
Summary: Peter Parker has an emotional encounter with a very upset Rebecca Barnes Proctor when it comes on the news that her brother is a suspect in a terrorist bombing.





	

Peter stopped in front of his door, hefting his backpack to a more comfortable position on his shoulders. As he reached into his pocket for his key, Mrs. Proctor yelled "What the fuck?" from next door, loudly enough for Peter to hear even over his music, and he flinched involuntarily. Whatever had just happened, it must have been really upsetting- Mrs. Proctor's Brooklyn accent was pronounced in a way it only was when she was angry.

_ What the hell? _ Peter thought as he opened his door.

"Hey honey," his aunt said when he entered the apartment. "How was school?"

"Good," Peter replied, setting his backpack down by the door. "It was good." He wondered why his aunt seemed so distracted, and that's when he realized that the news was on. He pulled out his earbuds to listen to it.

"Anyone with information on Barnes' whereabouts is urged to contact their local authorities," the newscaster was saying. Peter's eyes flicked down to the news banner at the bottom of the screen.  _ James Barnes suspect in UN terrorist bombing _ , it proclaimed in bold black capital letters.

"Oh shit," he said, his eyes widening, the words slipping out before he could stop them. His aunt shot a glare in his direction.

"I'm-uh...I'm gonna go check on Mrs. Proctor," he stammered, gesturing awkwardly toward the door. His aunt nodded. He raced out into the hallway, swinging the door shut behind him harder than he meant to and ending up slamming it.

“Mrs. Proctor?” he asked timidly, rapping gently on her door. No answer. He tried again. “Mrs. Proctor?” Her door jerked open suddenly and they were face to face. Her expression was angry, but there were tears glistening wetly in the wrinkles on her face.

“What do you want?” she snapped. If the tears hadn’t been a clear indication that she was still upset, her voice certainly was- her accent still hadn’t modulated back to its usual barely noticeable purr.

“I just saw the news,” Peter said carefully. “Are you okay?” He felt stupid even as he asked the question- obviously she wasn’t okay- but it still needed to be asked.

“It’s a mistake,” Mrs. Proctor said desperately. “It has to be a mistake. Jimmy wouldn’t-he couldn’t-” She didn’t finish her thought. She suddenly looked much younger than her ninety-seven years. Peter didn’t have any siblings, but she looked the way he imagined a scared little sister would. A moment later he remembered that a scared little sister was exactly what she was at that moment.

“I...don’t think it’s a mistake, Mrs. Proctor,” he said gently.

“It has to be!” Mrs. Proctor snapped, her voice hitching. “Jimmy’s not capable of something like that any more than-than Steve is!” Her fingers played nervously with the pendant around her neck. Peter had never asked about it, but he assumed it had some connection with her brother- she always played with it like that when she talked about him.

“I don’t think it’s possible to ever truly know what someone is capable of,” he offered carefully, trying to calm her down a little bit.

“I’m telling you, it has to be a mistake!” she said again, her voice rising in volume, as if repeating it enough times would make it true. “My brother is _ not _ a terrorist.”

“Maybe he didn’t use to be,” Peter said, “but I’m not sure what he is now.” Mrs. Proctor glared at him for a moment, dumbstruck, then slammed her door in his face.

“Mrs. Proctor!” Peter cried, realizing his mistake. “Mrs. Proctor, please! I was trying to play devil’s advocate, and I’m sorry. I should have realized that that would upset you.” Mrs. Proctor’s door opened, but just a crack.

“Alright, so you’re sorry,” she said, a steely edge to her tone. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Is there...is there anything I can do for you?” Peter asked hesitantly. “Any way I can help?”

“Not unless you have some way to contact that idiot brother of mine,” Mrs. Proctor said tiredly. She closed her door again, gently this time, and Peter heard the quiet  _ snick _ of the latch engaging. He sighed as he headed back over to his own apartment. He supposed if Mrs. Proctor said there was nothing he could do to help, then there was nothing he could do to help, but that didn’t make him feel any better.

**Author's Note:**

> Rebecca's pendant is the Barnes Cross that was awarded to her brother and left to her in her mother's will.


End file.
